


Testing That Theory

by WallflowerBitca



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Basically, F/M, I couldn't bear to reread it, I wrote it years ago and this is unedited, SO, drug metaphor, fuck it's so kinky, kinky smut, sorry if it's error-filled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallflowerBitca/pseuds/WallflowerBitca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark Willow. Ripper. Season 6: she goes back in time to the 70s, and has one truly incredible night with a young Warlock... and what will that mean for the young woman in the library 20 years on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Testing It

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to think up a plausible reason as to why this possibly could have happened was very difficult, therefore I am giving you the same two excuses the writers on the show always did. Because: “They’re on a hellmouth!” and “You can do anything with magic!” This was mostly about the wacky dialogue and kinky sex anyway. Anyway, season 6, Giles confronts Dark-Mojo Willow (“I’d like to test that theory”) and I’m going to fast forward through the episode, just pulling my favourite bits of dialogue until we get to the point I want, because I’m SO not transcribing half an episode (so excuse jumpiness, it’ll still be clear and that’s not the main purpose of this story anyway), at which point we AU the shit out of the storyline and spell-wackiness-time-warp-mojo sends them for a head spin. Long story short, Dark Willow thinks that Ripper is hot. Which he is. ‘Cause, duh. Sorry about the paragraph. STORY: Testing That Theory

“There is no one in the world who has the power to stop me now,” Willow’s lips curled up in a cruel smirk. Suddenly she was slammed into the ground, the power cascading through her warm yet deliciously, malevolently strong.

“I’d like to test that theory.” Rupert Giles’ voice was a low hum.

Willow lay on the floor, completely winded, but undeterred. “Uh oh,” she teased, “daddy’s home.” Sitting up shakily, Willow let the cruel little smirk return to her lips, her eyes almost mocking as she gazed at the man she once respected with near-reverence. “I’m in wicked trouble now.”

“You’ve no idea,” Giles shook his head softly. “You have to stop what you’re doing.” What was she doing to herself? His Willow, the woman he’d known since she was just fifteen years old… she was destroying herself. He couldn’t sit back and leave her to make decisions she’d regret. She may be an adult, capable of making her own decisions, but he loved her just a little too much to let her ruin any chance of having a happy life.

“Ooh, sorry. Can’t do that,” she glanced around the room. “Not finished yet.”

“Neither am I,” the Watcher replied. He swung his hand downward as she attempted to stand. “Stay down.” And she dropped back to the floor.

“Stay down.”

“How ‘bout, no?” Willow brushed off his magical advance with a surprising ease. Buffy paled. Had she honestly just been pulling them along, letting Giles’ spells knock her down? Where was her friend? “Remember that little spat we had before you left?” She said, pacing slowly around Giles, appraising him. “When you were under the delusion that you were still relevant here? You called me a rank, arrogant amateur. Well, buckle up Rupert,” he hair and eyes rushed the inkiest of black, and her voice began to echo with a near-otherworldly resonance, “because I’ve turned pro.”

 

Giles was sprawled on the ceiling, writhing in pain and fear as Willow paced calmly below him. She was right. His spell hadn’t held her forever. And now he was alone with her.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” she spat, “waltzing in here with borrowed magics so you can tell me, what…? Magic is bad? Behave? Be a good girl?” She looked up at her former mentor, a slightly angry scowl gracing her inky features. “I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, are you?” She shook her head, smiling that same cruel little smirk, though there was a hint of reminiscence in her eyes now, “I used to think you had all the answers. That I had so much to learn from you. Now I see you for the fraud you are.”

Giles’ stomach knotted painfully. Was she right? Was storming in here and attacking her with borrowed power just as bad as what she was doing? “Willow,” he gasped.

She flicked her wrist lazily and he slammed up into the ceiling, letting out a pained exhale.

“You were jealous,” she taunted. “Still are. Couldn’t bear that I was the one with power. That’s why you ran… that’s why you--”

“Incurso!” he cried, a jet of energy shooting from his mouth and slamming into her chest. She staggered back from the blow, dazed, her concentration broken. Giles’ limp form dropped to the floor.

Willow shook her head, attempting to clear it. “Well that was…rude. Now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Perhaps you’re…not as strong as you…think you are,” he wheezed. She gazed at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re expending far too much mystical energy to maintain your powers…at this pace… you’re going to burn out. And up.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” she intoned, and ‘are ya done yet?’ look on her face.

“Willow, you need…to stop…”

“What I need,” she said, her malevolent little smirk returning, nastier than ever as she appeared in front of him instantly, “is a little pick-me-up.” She pressed her hand into his chest, as she had done with Rack, and began to feel his energy flow through her. It hit her like a wall, and was almost dazzlingly powerful… but as soon as it began, everything went black.

 

Willow opened her eyes warily. She was lying in the middle of an open field, next to a bonfire, gazing up at the night sky. What had the Watcher done to her? What was with the whacky power trip? It was like the hallucinations Rack would deliver…but so much more… _real_. She heard voices gradually drawing nearer in the clearing, mostly male, laughing, obviously somewhat drunk. She sat up slowly, fingers already itching with the magic that so permanently bubbled under the surface of her skin… But she could feel a magical presence near her too. The group of voices burst through the trees at the edge of the clearing – they were boys, teenagers, clutching spell books and bottles of amber liquid. And at the head of the gang was a face Willow would recognise anywhere.

“Bloody hell, who’s that?” Cried a voice. “Ripper, did you invite her? Thought you said tonight was men only.”

“Of course I didn’t invite her Ethan,” Giles strode forward. Wow. He was so young, maybe twenty, all swagger and ropes of muscle…and those perfect, twinkling green eyes were still just the same. He looked Willow up and down, taking in her black eyes and hair, the wary look she was shooting him. “Well, well, well,” he smirked, “a black magic addict if I ever bloody saw one.”

The younger, gangly version of Ethan Rayne shot forward, dropping to his knees beside Willow.

“She’s an addict, Ripper?”

“She reeks of it,” Giles grinned.

“Well what do we do with her?” Called one of the other men.

“Yeah, we don’t need no woman messing up the Bacchanal.”

Willow had had enough of this… talking about her like she wasn’t even there… “Quiet!” she yelled, throwing her hand up. Instantly, the man gagged, spluttering but unable to speak. “Where am I?”

“London,” Giles replied warily.

“When?”

“1971.”

Willow shot to her feet, her hand instantly closing around Giles’ throat. “ _What_ did you do to me?” She hissed, her fingers a vice. He struggled, but smirked all the while. He was _enjoying_ it?

“Nothing,” he laughed, “I swear. Never seen you before in my life. I’d remember, I’m sure.”

She unclenched her fingers, tossing him to the ground. That damn Watcher… what was she going to learn, here, stuck God-knows-where in 1971 with a drunk, magic-crazy version of the man she’d just been fighting? If this was one of those times she was supposed to be learning an important lesson…well, she wasn’t.

“You wanna pick a fight?” Ethan intoned, drawing up close to Willow. “Don’t you dare shove Ripper around like that.”

“Please,” Willow scoffed, raising a hand. A small jet of energy knocked Ethan back onto the ground.

“You insolent little--”

“Rupert,” she said softly, “if you know what’s good for you, you _won’t_ for the love of Hecate finish that sentence.”

“ _Bitch.”_

And then he was unconscious.

 

The next thing Rupert Giles was aware of was the fact that he was strung between two trees, his wrists and ankles bound, his shirt gone. But he wasn’t alone.

“Took you long enough,” Willow smirked, standing up walking over to him. “I was starting to think you’d never come ‘round. Thought that 20 year old you would at least be able to take a punch.”

“Who are you?” He asked, struggling against the restraints.

“Isn’t that just the loaded question?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “I’ve been a lot of people in my life. This is just one of them.” She reached out, slowly running her index finger down his lightly muscled chest, feeling him shiver.

“I always knew there was a body under there Rupert,” she smiled. “I had the biggest crush on you in high school… but pure, sweet, innocent little Willow _never_ would have acted on it. But,” she leaned in to him, so close that their lips were nearly touching, “I think I’ve moved past that.” And she captured his lips in a blazing kiss. At first he didn’t react, just hung from his restraints, shell-shocked, but after a few moments he began to kiss her back. His mouth was warm and firm, insistent…and it shocked Willow a little to remember the feeling of kissing someone with stubble. She pulled back, biting on his bottom lip as she went.

“What do you want from me?” He asked quietly. “Where are the others?”

“They’re alive…mostly,” she said dismissively. “But do you _really_ care about that right now Ripper?” She grinned, reaching up and cupping the bulge in his pants. “You get off on this, don’t you? You can feel my power… and it turns you on.” Her fingers began to play with his zipper. “Does it turn you on thirty years from now as well? Fighting me, feeling my hands burning with dark magic… does it still turn you on then, when you’re a stuffy old watcher? Do you just hide it better?”

She tugged his pants and boxers down, freeing his dick and grasping it just a little too tightly.

“Come on, Ripper, admit it,” she raked her free hand down his chest, “you’ve always been bad. Just like me. Just like Faith or Anya, or hell, even Buffy… we’ve all got darkness inside of us. It’ll never go away…” she leaned in, her tongue tracing little patterns on his bottom lip as her hand slowly began stroking his dick, “ _succumb._ ”

And he did. As her hot little mouth encased his dick, sinking down his shaft, he did… he let her darkness flow into him until he felt his own body crackling with sexual heat and great torrents of dark magic. She sucked at the base of his cock, swallowing him, before sliding back up at lapping at the tip, over and over again… he gripped at his restraints, moaning almost deliriously as her mouth worked him to an impossible state of hardness.

She felt his cock twitch in her mouth and knew he was close… quickly divesting herself of her shirt, she flickered her tongue across the tip one more time as he roared his release, hot, thick ropes of come spurting out and splattering over her newly exposed breasts.

With a flick of her hand, his restraints vanished and he sank to his knees. But not for long. She pulled him back up, capturing him in another blazing kiss as his hands fumbled at the button on her pants. He began kissing down her torso, licking his own cum off her breasts and circling her nipples. When he reached her panties he smiled, sucking on the gusset before using his teeth to rip them away. He placed a delicate kiss in the tiny strip of red hair atop her pussy, before cleaving his tongue into her. She cried out, lacing her hands in his hair and shoving his face harder into her pussy. Dear god, was that his fingers or his tongue or… oh _goddess…_ That would be her shrieking like a porn star then. He had three fingers buried in her tight little pussy, completely drenched in her juices and pumping in and out like a piston. She writhed and panted like a bitch in heat as his tongue lashed her clit, her hips jumping and chest heaving.

“FUCK!” She shrieked, her release punctuated by a keening scream as she shuddered against his mouth.

He pulled back, a sexy little glimmer in his eye. He held his hand out, palm up, and something materialised on it… a pair of silver handcuffs.

“Don’t say a word, witch,” he commanded. His rough voice sent shivers down her spine. He grasped her wrists, cuffing one and stringing them around a small tree before cuffing her other wrist. She was entirely bound. And entirely his. She felt the magic prickling inside her, itching to break through the cuffs…. But no. For now, at least, he was in control. He grabbed her hips and without so much as a ‘may I’ slammed into her from behind. His cock filled her completely and she whimpered…it had been a long time since she’d had something this size inside of her. He raised a hand, bringing down a hard slap on her ass…and he felt her dewing up even more.

The black magic witch liked it rough, huh? He raised his hand and slapped her ass again and she cried out, whimpering in pleasure and raising her ass slightly as he rained more and more slaps down on her creamy derriere.

His hand roughly grabbed her breast, twisting the nipple as his lips closed on her neck, sucking hard. His cock slammed into with such a force she was shuddering and gasping with every stroke and all she could think was… _why didn’t I try this sooner?_

Six years ago, would he have done this to her in the library if she’d asked? Would he have done this without her dark magic running through them, an intense aphrodisiac? Right now she didn’t care… because his cock was hot and slamming into her so hard and fast she thought she might shatter with pleasure.

One hand slipped around the front, thumbing her clit and the other… _ohholymotherofgod_ his _thumb_ was in her _ass_ … and it felt fucking incredible. The triple whammy of pleasure sent her sky rocketing over the edge, screaming her release. As she did so, a burst of magic shatter the cuffs and without breaking their connection she turned herself around, jumping into his arms as his thrusts continued. She could feel his cock twitching inside of her and she leaned in, kissing his neck, leaving a love bite for him to remember her by… and he came, his come spurting into her and their combined juices dribbling down her thighs.

She laughed, sliding off him and righting herself. “Have fun, Ripper,” she whispered, pushing a palm to his chest. “Remember me when you meet the nerdy little girl in the library…” And she slammed him with a pulse of dark energy, so intense that as the world around her began to shimmer and shake, she saw his eyes go black.


	2. Nerdy Girl in the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 20-something years on, and Giles recognises the small redheaded girl in his library as one who changed his life an awfully long time ago...  
> SMUT.  
> SO MUCH SMUT.  
> THIS HAS NEXT TO NO PLOT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe you guys a sequel. Yes, nerdy Willow. Yes in the library. She’s at the very end of her freshman year (15), so ye hath been warned, this sex isn’t quite legal. Leans toward consensual non-con. Is that a thing? She ain’t complainin’, but she’s all magicked up, so.

The last day of school was _officially_ the worst day of the year… Well, at least it was for Willow Rosenberg. It meant no classes for three months, and unlike Xander she couldn’t even use her grades as an excuse for summer school. She was a freshman, so she didn’t even have any summer assignments. Just a reading list of six measly books, five of which she’d read years ago. Still, as the final bell for the day went, she ventured into the library to pick up her assigned reading. Willow walked against the flow of students scrambling for the doors and the freedom of summer, her head bowed and eyes shaded by curtains of long mousy hair. People crashed into her over and over, they didn’t really see her, not around here. They were focused on getting out, she was just dreading having to leave.

 

She pushed open the big double doors to the library. Willow wasn’t really sure if she was supposed to be in here, the new librarian had been moving in these last few days and he seemed very reclusive. The few times she’d caught a glimpse of him, he’d been hurrying along balancing stacks of ancient books or polishing his glasses. She gasped as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The bookcases lining the walls had been moved into rows of shelves, with little nooks filled with cushions. But you could barely see the big windows because none of the books were shelved yet, they rested in towering piles all through the library. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, a cascade of books and an expletive, very British “bloody hell” from one of the walls.  
“Um… is everything… is everything alright, sir?” Willow walked forward gingerly, trying not to touch the teeter-y stacks of books, and looked nervously into the book cage. There was a man in a tweed suit standing with his back to her, books littered around his feet.

 

  
“Bloody brilliant,” he muttered, “Giles you fool… yes I’m sorry, miss,” he started to turn around, righting his round glasses on his nose, “just having some organisational diffi-” his eyes widened and he pushed his glasses further up his nose, taking a step toward her. His eyes raked her body.  
“Um, Mr…” Willow petered off, feeling definitively awkward under his scrutiny-ish gaze.  
He shook his head quickly, “Uh, G-Giles,” the librarian blustered. “Mr Giles.”  
“Mr Giles, I’m here to collect my summer reading…” Willow averted her eyes nervously, licking her lips. Her heart was all pound-y, though she didn’t know why and his eyes were roaming her face now.  
“Of course you are,” he breathed, “Miss, uh?”  
“Rosenberg,” she filled in, “Willow Rosenberg.”  
“Willow.” Turning away, he reached toward the back of the cage, taking a thick, heavy volume into his hands and coming to face her again. “You don’t know yet…”  
“I’m not knowing what?” Her big, orb-like eyes widened, and for an instance Giles couldn’t believe that they could ever be inky black, that her tiny, floral little body could ever – would ever! – be possessed by the black arts the way that addict was, more than twenty years ago in the forest.  
“That I remember you.”

 

Willow had never felt anything like it, not in fifteen years. As he pushed the book into her hands and their fingers brushed, her whole body pulsed. She felt a current run through her, deeper than arousal or excitement. It wasn’t in her blood, it was in _her_ , in her soul, if she believed that sort of thing. It was dark, scary… a little electrifying. For the first, but certainly not the last time, Willow Rosenberg wanted more.

 

And more he gave her. Her eyes darkened, shades of night under copper lashes, and a gradual ash spread through her hair. She was vibrating, and he was allowing the power he’d saved in that tome, 25 years of pent up magic, _black, nasty, dirty, delicious magic_ , pour into her fragile little body.  
Finally he dropped the book, and her ink-black eyes met his. Slowly, with more confidence than she’d ever had before, she placed her hand square in the middle of his chest, “you remembered me, Ripper…” and as she shared her energy, his eyes began to mirror her own.  
“Fuck me.”

 

He pulled her into his arms, hand already reaching up under her dinky little plaid skirt. His fingers burned her, literally, and as he grazed her underwear they melted away. Liquid dribbled down her thighs, and the librarian ground the bulge in his trousers against her thigh. She grabbed him roughly, unzipping him in a swift motion.  
Willow had no idea what she was doing.  
But there was no way in heck she was stopping.  
Within seconds, his dick was buried in her pussy and she was keening, shivering against him as each thrust sent waves of pleasure and more sinister pulses of dark energy through her body. One-handed, he pulled his belt from his trousers and wrapped it around her wrists, quickly fastening them to the slats of the book cage as she panted. She tugged against the restraints.  
“You know how to get out of them,” he whispered.  
“I do,” she repeated, and with a flick of her wrist and a crackle of magic, their positions were reversed. His hands were bound to the book cage, bare ass on the floor while she rode him mercilessly.  
“Giddy-up,” she whispered, and shuddered her release around him.  
With a burst of light, his belt vanished and he clutched her ass as he came hard.

 

And suddenly she was mousy again. Her eyes were big green orbs and her hair was straggly with sweat and tangled. She slid off him, shocked, confused… satisfied. That was so wrong. She just… she just… you know… with a _teacher_! A freaky magic teacher and holy moly what the hell had she just done, why the hell did it feel so good and what in God’s name made her want to feel that way again? She reeled back, looking at him, what had just happened? Well, the sex, she understood that bit, but the other…?  
Giles hastily pulled up his trousers, and slid closer to the confused young woman. He placed his hand on hers, giving her the last dregs of magic he had left.  
“ _Forget.”_

_For now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys want more? Just realised I started a third chapter.... Never finished and forgot.


End file.
